Author Archives: Jammo

Plunge into: Mangel Records

Composite image of two divers and the Mangel Records logo.

Read Time: 4 mins

Over the last five years, this young Berlin label has been putting out a slew of excellent DIY releases. Though rooted in punk, Mangel – a self-deprecating title meaning ‘lacking in’ or ‘a lack of’ – isn’t simply a punk label. Their vision is broader, but always grounded in DIY as an ethos, with easy parallels to post-punk labels like Rough Trade and Small Wonder. A love of format and art shines through everything this Berlin label does. In a city with a rich history of punk and post-punk (see Iggy in Berlin, early Ärzte and Totenhosen, Malaria!, Birthday Party, Einstürzende Neubauten… the list goes on), it’s refreshing to see a label like Mangel break through the prescribed contemporary wisdom that Berlin equals Berghain.

The label was featured in a recent Arte documentary, DIY-Punk: Selbstausbeutung für die Kultur, about the DIY scene in Germany – which, I’m ashamed to say, is where I first learned of them, despite having lived up the road for the past 17 years (always late to the party). Since then, however, I’ve been trawling the depths of their back catalogue like a dogged fisherman. At the time of writing, it stands at a portly 38 releases! 

Mangel is a four-person operation, run from a small Berlin studio space by friends Anne Sophie, Denes, Martin and Oskar, who also play in the bands Liiek and Pigeon. In the opening rush of the Arte documentary, Martin states (in German): “Naturally, in capitalist logic, running a label like Mangel is complete self-exploitation, as we personally earn nothing from it.” It’s that sacrificial passion which shines through every release. So, here’s a little rundown of some of my favourite finds to date…

Blumes – Wondering Why

The latest release on Mangel, Wondering Why by Blumes, is a pastoral 10-track LP of breezy, beautiful lo-fi music, tottering to and fro somewhere between musical behemoths like Grandaddy, Pavement and Lambchop – but without much of the slack Americana that was often the calling card of that scene. Though Blumes (Leipzig-based artist Alexander Günther) generally sings in English, there are times when a soft hint of German accent or phrasing creeps in, such as in the refrain of the opening song Lack of Light, when he croons: “darkness only, is a lack of light.” I adore this – it’s authentic and honest, and adds so much to the music’s character, just as Nico’s voice did to the Velvet Underground. The marriage of Casio-sounding synths and vintage drum machines on the melancholic pop of Another Try, and the more experimental forays of Forgotten Apples and Untitled, are excellent.

Die Verlierer – Notausgang

Though some might see the follow-up to 2022’s eponymous debut album as a nostalgia trip, I take it as a continuation of true punk. If we consider punk as traditional protest music, in the way some Irish folk is protest music, Die Verlierer are among the best around. There are shades of post-punk, most notably in some of the guitar effects, but this is raw, saturated, no-posh-bollocks punk rock that feels as though it’s been beamed in from another time. In many ways, it’s a perfect reaction to the current cultural obsession with tech-futurism. It’s refreshing to hear a band bring something like this out: something honest, something human – something I’m 100% sure was not created by AI!

It’s a cruel irony that much of the subject matter suits the sound. Nowhere is the sense of history repeating itself clearer than in the title track, where the lyrics – seemingly about the German Republic’s slow lurch towards ultra-right politics and an ever more likely AfD takeover – declare: “Ich leb’ im falschen Land und in der falschen Phase / I live in the wrong country and in the wrong time.”

Giulio Erasmus – Second Attempt

An album of top-shelf, off-kilter, dub-kissed brilliance from the son of Factory Records co-conspirator Alan Erasmus. Less Factory than classic Rough Trade, this record can stand shoulder to shoulder with great works by The Pop Group or early Scritti Politti, its rhythms soaked in dub, bass heavy and discordant electronics. The vocals, seemingly recorded down a phone line, take the form of almost indecipherable ramblings: haunting, filled with strange melodies. It’s the sort of music I imagine Glam Damage creating in Jeff Noon’s ’99 book Needle in the Groove, where music is sampled onto a globe of liquid and remixed with a shake. There are echoes of The Happy Mondays’ Yes Please period, 23 Skidoo, Iggy Pop, Maximum Joy, and even early Beck – but all shaken up and mutated.

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5 Tewns Vol.1

A composite image of album covers by Autumns, Client_03, The Sorcerers, Adrian Sherwood and Taqbir

Read Time: 2 mins

Though I mostly spend my time online reading, writing and catastrophising about the possible demise of humanity, I do also churn through a load of new releases and old classics. So, in an attempt to be positive, I’ll share my thoughts on a pentagram of good, mostly new tunes, I’ve listened to this week.

Taqbir – Aisha Quandisha

Face-melting, neighbour-bothering 4-chord brilliance from the band’s eponymous 2021 album. I’m ashamed to admit I hadn’t heard about Taqbir until this month.

Autumns – How Long Does it Take for a Nose to Rot

Sparse, fantabulous, steel-city-style electronics here. It kind of reminds me of Clock DVA. The whole album is excellent, to be honest, but this one in particular raised its head above the parapet — sleazy as you like and with a massive echoic snare. What’s not to like?

Client_03 – Imitation Assembly Volume

Stunning, saturated, dystopian electro from one of the most prolific sequencer-botherers around today, taken from his latest album Test_Assembly. Readers will, of course, be aware that we also posted his live AV set the other day too. If you don’t know, have a look here.

The Sorcerers – Ancestral Machines

Gorgeous spooked-out B-movie ethiojazz from Leeds’ The Sorcerers. Absolutely wicked Farfisa licks on this one, not to mention some lovely Malcolm Catto-style drumming.

Adrian Sherwood – Body Roll

Gorgeous thematic dub from the master here. I absolutely adore the interplay of odd synth bits and the more organic sax and flute elements. Pure soul-filled dub music for end times — the perfect antidote to algorithm-pleasing TikTok hits.

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Revisiting Children of the Stones

Adam and Margret walk among the sacred stones of milbury. From Children of the Stones.

Read Time: 6 mins

Title: Children of the Stones (1977)
Director: Peter Graham Scott
Creators: Jeremy Burnham, Trevor Ray
Starring: Iain Cuthbertson, Veronica Strong, Gareth Thomas, Freddie Jones
Music: Sidney Sagar
Genre: Supernatural, Horror, Thriller

After a 17-year stint living in Berlin – a place I’ve unfortunately never warmed to – I suddenly find myself in a small town in northern Portugal. A new reality: a lattice of Atlantic rock art, half-finished dream houses, and the ever-present threat of forest fires. A lifetime of small towns and even smaller villages around Wales and the West Country means I instantly feel at home here. Atlantic magic pervades – druidic, Celtic, bardic culture, whatever you want to call it. It’s here. I can’t describe it, but I feel it – it feels right.

It’s with this in mind that I’ve decided to revisit HTV’s 1977 children’s drama, Children of the Stones.
NB: There will be spoilers!

Now, I say “children’s drama” with some reticence, as it’s a wonder to me that Children of the Stones was ever slated as such – a feeling supposedly shared by its director. Though very much of its time – camp and over-theatrical – Children of the Stones boasts a complex and verbose storyline, and a soundtrack of discordant wails by Sidney Sager featuring the haunting voices of the Ambrosian Singers that is, at times, truly frightening. In truth, this is supernatural horror and utterly hauntological – but that’s 70s and 80s British kids’ telly in a nutshell.

Filmed at Avebury stone circle, the story follows Aberystwyth’s own Gareth Thomas as scientist Adam Brake, who, along with his gifted teenage son Matt, arrives in the imagined village of Milbury on a three-month academic project to examine the stone circle and its apparent magnetic qualities. There, they inadvertently uncover the strange truth about a village trapped in a time loop and its cultish leader, Hendrick – an ex-astrophysicist brilliantly played by Iain Cuthbertson.

Adam with closed eyes, experiences visions, after touching the stones.
Adam experiences visions

Matt discovers an old painting in a charity shop, seemingly depicting an ancient ritual in the village, featuring a serpent and a beam of light emanating from a circle of dancers. The painting bears the inscription “I deny the existence of that which exists” in dog Latin. Upon showing it to Mrs Crabtree, the local landlady who takes them in, she faints. Fainting becomes a trope throughout the series, as the main characters, under the power of the stones, experience other realities – and, particularly Matt, engage in psychic viewing, seemingly powered by the omnipotent stones.

Milbury is a village populated almost entirely by vacuous locals who greet each other with “Happy day”, as if under the command of some cosmic diktat. The children of the village are split into two groups: the “Happy Ones”, with their synthetic politeness and prodigious abilities in mathematics and physics; and the ever-decreasing others – a motley crew of normal youths with all the affectations you’d expect from pubescent 70s teens.

A local outsider, the poacher Dai – played by Freddie Jones (Dune, The Elephant Man, Krull) – becomes a kind of protector for Matt and his friend Sandra, offering them clues and the safety of the sanctuary where he dwells. Sandra’s mother, Margaret – played by Veronica Strong – is the local museum curator who, like Adam Brake, is recently widowed, leading to a predictable courtship (it’s 70s telly, after all). Over time, this relationship becomes key to discovering “the truth” about Milbury’s stone circle and its inhabitants. Where Adam is a strict scientist, Margaret is more open-minded to spiritual or supernatural ideas, discovering that Milbury sits at the epicentre of a powerful group of ley lines – an idea Adam initially rejects, pompously stating: “You know my idea of hell? Write out 100 ‘ley lines’.”
To which Margaret chuckles, archly: “I take it you’re not a believer.”

Adam’s ignorance is soon exposed, as he and Matt experience all manner of physical and psychological episodes related to their interactions with the stones.

Dai Holds up an amulet.
Dai Shows off his Talisman

When Margaret introduces the remains of the “Barber Surgeon” – an ancient villager found crushed under one of the stones – we learn of the amulet he carried. An amulet mirrored by the one Dai keeps, which he claims protects him from becoming like the other villagers. A continuation that suggests a time loop is occurring. Perhaps Dai is the Barber Surgeon – or maybe just a descendant.

In the warm, faded hue of 16mm seventies television, we amble through a series of double exposures, escape attempts, Dai’s supernatural death, and Wicker Man-like ritual scenes, as we make sense of Hendrick’s place at the epicentre of it all – where the ley lines meet. He has found a way to harness the dark energy of a black hole and brainwash the villagers, one dinner party at a time. Hendrick’s plan is finally thwarted by Adam and Matt’s combined smarts, leading to a disastrous end. The other villagers are transformed into standing stones as Adam and Matt seek refuge in the sanctuary.

The mystery continues as the pair awaken the next morning to find Dai alive again, sharpening knives – a poacher no more. He tells them to leave the sanctuary, as they are not friends. The timeline has shifted. Arriving at Mrs Crabtree’s, they are surprised to find the rest of the villagers alive and well, apparently with no recollection of the night before. As the pair prepare to leave, Margaret displays a kind of vague knowing, as if she is aware of her predicament. While the other characters seem changed, she appears to exist in both worlds – locked into a repeating tale, like a West-Countrified Ouroboros, regenerating as quickly as it devours.

As Adam and Matt finally depart the village – a previously impossible task – they pass Hendrick. But this is not Hendrick. We follow him as he attends a viewing at the centre of the ley lines. This time, he introduces himself as Sir Joshua Litton, claiming to be a professor, looking to retire to Milbury.
His final words: “I believe I shall be very happy here.”

And with that, another loop in Milbury begins…

Hendrick sits on his stone chair and drinks sinisterly from a goblet.
Hendrick gets ready for the ceremony

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